After over a month apart, Laney had decided she was ready to talk to Frank again. She had shown up at his flat unannounced, pushed her way in with a less than vocal greeting, and apologized. It was a Laney-ish apology, but it was sincere. If there had been a bit of insistence, some bossiness when she’d finished talking, well. It was Laney.

The rest of the weekend had been nice, a shut-in holiday, plenty of quiet time and earned exhaustion. Softer moments and exciting ones. A proper makeup, a step forward for Laney. Before she’d left again, she’d fished the spare keys from a hook, jangled them at him with the triumph of flashing a half-dozenth practice snitch at her coach, and put them in her bag to take home with her.

Now they were enjoying each other’s company again, a lazy Friday night after work and a nice dinner out. Laney was pleased that she had picked a direwolf whose career wasn’t nine to five. It kept things interesting (even if some of the surprises were less impressive than others, but she was getting past certain inclinations, could laugh about them now in the same way she would laugh if George brought up Ravenclaw schoolgirls). She lounged on the couch, a blanket tangled at their ankles, a coffee table full of drinks and Honeydukes candy. A record played at a low volume, background noise. The balcony door and the windows were thrown open despite the February chill, and the moon was gentle in the sky, shining down on its twin, the small tattoo on Laney’s shoulder that mirrored its calmness; it was nowhere near full.

Laney reached for a gummy worm on the table, bit off part of it, offered the other side to Frank, into whom she leaned. “Do you want to play a game?” She asked, licking sugar from her finger. She picked up her wand and pointed it at the record player, changed the song, turned the volume up a fraction; she was in the mood for this song. She reached her opposite hand across to brush his stubbly cheek, make sure his attention was on her. She pulled his face closer and kissed him once where his cheek and jaw met. “Let’s play a game,” She clarified, answering for him, turning the question into a resolute plan. Her grin was wolfish, and one might have thought she was the one with a crowded lunar calendar in this relationship.

Though Frank might have been more than shocked to see Laney show up on his doorstep after she hadn’t spoken with him since their argument, he had been willing to listen. That she’d apologized (somewhat) had left him a bit speechless. He had attempted to explain to her how it had been so... trivial. It was much more enjoyable to have someone real to hold on to, after all, and he enjoyed her company.

The fact that his spare keys were once again in her possession worried him less than the fact she had come back. Part of him expected to be the one guy who stayed alone. Especially after his rather unfortunate transformation. It had seemed like fate, in a way, telling him that he was a friendly hermit.

Her reaction to his extracurricular activities had at first confirmed it. That she apologized for her reaction left him... elated. Even if there was still a wait for confirmation of a work visa and enough paperwork to cover his living room. Work kept him busy and focused, whereas Laney unfocused his thinking and kept his body busy.

Still, it had been a nice prelude to the soon-to-be Valentine’s day festivities. He had known her for over a year. In fact, before their little interlude, it had marked their first anniversary since meeting. Dinner made him satisfied in a grounded way. Looking over Laney, biting his lip as he watched her mouth... that made him hungry for something else. Dessert.

Like the sugary treat she offered him half of. Smirking, he leaned his head forward enough to take it between his teeth, pulling it away from her lightly. The hair on his forearms (exposed thanks to the button up shirt being pushed up to his elbows) stood up from the breeze that tickled its way in through the apartment from the open balcony. It was electrifying. His arm pulled her in closer, raising an eyebrow at her question. “Mm...” Was it terrible if he was content where they were? She was enthusiastic to a point that could exhaust a proper adult.

“Let’s play a game.”

Still enjoying the light touch of her lips to his, his smirk deepened before he pressed against her mouth, taking a moment to enjoy a more thorough taste.

“You think you can handle the stakes?” Frank knew the answer when the question came to mind, but why not play along? He pulled away and fumbled for his glass, taking down a gulp of intoxicating liquid, enjoying the flavor on his eager tongue. “I will play to win.”

She saw him watching her, the way he bit his lip, and it made her happy. He wanted her. She could almost always tell when someone did, but there was something about knowing that Frank thought that way, was watching with want in his gaze, that especially pleased her, made her feel a bit warmer than she did toward others. Despite the silly arguments, Laney’s stubbornness, the things she had said, the insecurities she refused to let to the surface, she could tell. She stretched over him purposefully while reaching for treats, taking her time, letting him watch, using this information. Smiling. She wanted him, too, the cute scruffy guy in a shirt half unbuttoned and a tie hanging loosely, undone around his shoulders. His heat as she settled back beside him with a handful of sweets. No one could accuse them of being a boring match.

And a game could only make things more fun. She pressed a palm into his shirt as he deepened the kiss, shifted closer a bit, if it were possible. She pulled away slowly, easily to listen. His reaction made her laugh. “I can handle anything.“ Could he? Even the loser would win in the sort game Laney had in mind. As Frank reached for his glass, Laney sat up again, unhurriedly, curling legs beneath her. She had abandoned her boots and coat at the door, and now wore a simple black slip-style dress. That he thought he would win was adorable. “I didn’t mean a board game.” She grinned, reaching toward him again, tugging at the front of his shirt, waiting for him to stop being busy with the glass to kiss him. "But come on, do you know who you're playing against?"

Laney then uncurled her legs and climbed from the couch, bending over the coffee table to grab a cigarette. She stood straight again, perched it between her lips and tilted her head toward the balcony, motioning for him to join her, discuss the details of this game. A smoke break before he won. Laney smiled at the thought, stepping onto the balcony. The immediate rush of cold was a thrill. She raised her wand, lit the cigarette, and took a drag before running her hands over her arms. The street below was busy, Londoners enjoying the start of their weekend.

When she stretched over him, his eyes took her in, a breath inhaled deeply. Frank had missed her, even if she irritated him with her irrational and double standard attitude. A free hand moved down her back, fingertips lightly caressing over the black material. It was just making its way to pull at the bottom of the dress when she shifted again, and he pulled away with a smirk.

“I can handle anything.”

An eyebrow rose in mock amusement. “Mmm...” The statement was so true for Laney that Frank wondered how he could back up his bravado. The closeness had made his brain fuzzy (and the alcohol he continued to drink didn’t help). Eyes shifted to her, lips lifting up in a grin around the glass edge. If he’d nearly choked on the liquid, he controlled it well enough. Once the glass was set back down, he leaned comfortably into the couch, allowing her hand to move where it wanted. “I’m sure I have a couple board games lying around... But if you don’t think you could handle that, then-”

He watched her get up suddenly. Frank wondered if he’d said something, or not done something. He sat forward slightly once she grabbed a cigarette. A chin tilt up answered her beckoning. A soft groan escaped him as he pushed off the couch, grabbing an extra cigarette before following her out. It was tiny and cozy, enough for two people to uncomfortably sit next to one another, or in the case, stand close.

Stepping up behind her, one arm snaked around her abdomen as his other hand held the cigarette to his lips, tilting a head to hers. An inhale or two later, with the tips of their cigarettes touching, and his was lit. He puffed a couple of times, allowing it to simmer. The worst thing to happen on a windy balcony was the snuffing out of his cigarette.

Once it was settled in the corner of his mouth comfortably, hands started to move over Laney. He took her by the wrists and spread them out over the railing, leaning against the side of her head. "I think I need to search you for any contraband." Leaving her hands where they were, his own moved up her arms, over her shoulders, down her upper back, and around to the front of her chest. A breath was inhaled deeply before he let the smoke out his nose, picked up in the breeze as it swirled in the air above them.

“You have the right to remain silent.” It was his best attempt at commanding, a strong yet soft pronouncement. Perhaps Frank had watched too many movies over the years.

One of the perks of dating a wolf was his warmth. As soon as his hand settled over her stomach, Laney felt the chill retreat. She bit her lip and loosened her arms. Her free hand reached back and gave his thigh a squeeze before bringing the cigarette back to her lips, where it lingered as Frank lit his. He was warmer than her coat. Certainly more fun.

When he took hold her wrists and spread them, she peeked back, briefly, catching his profile and the smoke in her peripheral. They had been a very hands on pair since his transformation. She said nothing, let him do as he pleased, was compliant and nimble. Curious.

Contraband. Laney smiled, feeling a little thrill at the word. She enjoyed his hands traveling over the thin material of her dress, which was short and sleeveless despite the winter, and left little room to hide anything. She pressed back into him, purposeful but still subtle, letting her cigarette idle where he’d left her hand. She continued to comply. For the moment.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

The tiny thrill from a moment ago spread. This was the sort of game she’d wanted. She hadn’t expected Frank to initiate it. She was a bit shocked, really, and it took her a moment to control the half-open-mouthed surprise, half-smile on her lips. She recovered quickly enough, however. Laney couldn’t resist the opportunity to mouth off to law enforcement and not get into too much trouble.

“What are you charging me with?” She challenged, a tense whisper. “Auror?” The word was drenched with mistrust; Laney was a rebellious submissive. Or a submissive rebel. She was still Laney, and the urge the misbehave was overwhelming. She reached up, grabbed one of his searching hands, and slid it slowly, slowly toward her thigh. “I’m not coming quietly."

The squeeze made him smirk, his stomach flutter, and eyes close (momentarily). She had a way of making simple guestures seem just right. It helped to further ignite him, causing a streak of bad wolf.

She gave in easily, allowing Frank to move her arms as he wished. The freedom was intoxicating.

And when she pushed into him, he couldn’t resist a push back. Another deep breath was inhaled, attempting to keep his mind grounded. Frank was going to prove that he could surprise, that he had the possibility of winning.

He would have enjoyed seeing the look on her face. Hell, if it wasn’t so cold, he would have considered perching her on top of the railing. As it was, her hands would do fine.

“What are you charging me with?”

Another flutter moved around his stomach. Auror was not Frank’s title, but he could use it tonight. It had fit a couple of Pratt’s, after all. Why not another? As he considered any number of potential crimes, his eyes took in her shoulder, moving up her neck, hands being cavalier in their honest search. “Fornicating with a direwolf, to start.”

“I’m not coming quietly.”

Fingers fanned out against the dress as Frank allowed Laney some control. He let out a groan of a breath as he reminded himself of the prize. “You think you can resist?” His free hand let her go, taking his cigarette from between his lips. Ash was knocked free before he smirked, pulling his hand away from her and turning his upper body to the side. Feigning disinterest, Frank ground out his cigarette. There would be time enough later for another.

A smoke-heavy breath was exhaled before he turned his upper body back to Laney.

Now that he was free of distractions... A leg moved between hers, pushing her forward (somewhat roughly), forcing its way in. One hand pulled at his undone tie, making a soft whoosh as it was quickly taken from under his collar. “Who wears so little in this weather?”

Suddenly he reached around and pulled her hands together in front of her. One of his held both of her wrists, gripping tight enough to keep them together. His breathing picked up ever so slightly before his tie made its reappearance.

As if he knew everything there was to tie tying, Frank made quick work of it around the rail and Laney’s wrists. Once he was satisfied-and he looked over her shoulder to eye his handiwork-Frank left wet kiss after wet kiss along her neck, hoping the breeze tickled. “Do you know what happens to naughty little girls?”

Laney’s grin spread at his answer. They had come a long way from Frank resisting her advances in a muggle theater. “I don’t see any wolves around here, do you, Auror?” She asked, catching his profile just barely in her peripheral, the shadow of him at her side, the hot gray smoke against the cold navy sky. “You don’t have any evidence.”

“You think you can resist?”

The fingers on the silky thinness of her dress seemed to echo the question. But Lorraine Irving loved a challenge. “Yes,” she answered, a quiet breath, defiant but excited. Her legs were moved, and she leaned a bit toward cold railing. The people below were ignorant, going about their drunken pub crawl. She heard the sound the tie on the wind, but could only guess. Her heartbeat sped up for a moment, her spine was hot and shivery. Who wore so little? “I don’t know,” she said, a lazy drawl, a recovery from her previously worked up tone. “Maybe someone who sleeps with a direwolf.” But it wasn’t an admission. This was all hypothetical, and Auror Pratt wasn’t going to catch her with her own words. Laney was having quite the time using his to be impudent. Who needed a coat when they had a scruffy, smoking beast of a boyfriend on a tiny balcony? The cold air felt good in a raw, harsh way.

She allowed him to tie the tie, but pulled her wrists in a testing, defiant tug when he was finished. He had done a good job; Laney had set her wand down after lighting the cigarette; there was a pleasure in being without her most natural defense. With her hands bound, she could no longer direct his. That was up to Frank. She dropped her own cigarette, saw the orange glow grow and then mellow to ash as it hit the very edge of the balcony. Her eyelids felt heavy, lashes fluttered together lightly and she tilted her head away to expose more of her neck to him. She pressed back again, hips and shoulders, stretching tautly, but was more restrained this time, her wrists brushing cold metal, her breathing more audible. “They go to Azkaban,” she replied, a murmur. She tried to move a hand again, in vain. She turned a cheek back toward him, trying to see him, to catch his face, his mouth. She spoke with more enthusiasm and self-assurance, again. “But I’m very, very good.”

Frank didn’t have evidence? He scoffed and chuckled at that, eyes rolling where she couldn’t see as he considered whether to implicate himself in this one or not. For now, however, he just shrugged a little. “You’re a suspect of it, then.” There might be reasonable doubt and all that, considering the direwolf was behind her.

If he asked her rhetorical questions, knowing she would love to challenge anything that offered a dare, Frank still enjoyed her expected answer. Her quiet “Yes” caused a shiver up his back, his heart to beat faster. Adrenaline and tension... two great combinations.

“Maybe someone who sleeps with a direwolf.”

A soft growl escaped him, a grin slipping onto his lips. “Maybe.” His voice had grown deeper, by a hair, and softer. He wanted to keep up the disguise, even if both knew it was just words. Even if he just wanted to tear the dress off of her and take her right there. It was fun to deny himself, and at the same time deny her. It was play before the real fun. If the cold air added a breath of reality to it, or the noise of people not far below offered an occasional reminder just over the railing, it all added to the height of excitement.

Her struggle, though in vain, did more to excite him than anything. Reading books had helped pay off, even if it had been about nautical knots. Every answer she had seemed to make him respond. Though Azkaban wasn’t something to joke about, it also implied something sinfully naughty. His breath let out against her neck, watching the side of her face for a moment as he considered his next move.

“But I’m very, very good.”

A smirk slid its way over his lips. “I’m sure we can work something out.” His voice trailed off as he pulled back from her, hips pushing against her rump as he glanced down her back. Finally he pulled even further away, standing up straight as hands moved over her sides, down her hips, and to the bottom of the dress. “I haven’t finished my search, though.”

With that out of the way, he pulled her dress up, one side at a time, hiking it over her assets. A tongue ran over his lips as he stepped back a bit to admire what he had uncovered. “This,” as his hands moved over the minimalist material that covered her skin, “is not allowed on the balcony.” And with sudden decision, they were swiftly pulled down and out of his way. His hands once again made their way back up, lightly brushing over her legs and thighs as he did.

Happy with the result so far, he pulled his hands away. Frank smirked as he stepped back into the apartment, readjusting himself before picking up his glass that was nearly empty. Obviously he needed to fill it up again. Eyes flickered over Laney from his advantage point; it was his own full moon tonight.

“Do you want a little firewhiskey?” Frank picked up the bottle and poured himself a generous glass. A gulp later, and he came back up behind her, offering the rim to her lips while eyeing her face, his free hand back to the uncovered moon. “Just before I finish my search.” He tilted the glass and the liquid met her lips.

Once it was all gone, he set the glass aside and resumed his position behind her. "I think I'll have to do a thorough search, just to be sure you're not lying." His belt jingled as he undid it. A few moments later of fumbling with his trousers, and he was pressing back against her, giving her the thorough search she needed.

It wasn’t that Akiva needed things to do with her time… but Raizel wasn’t visiting – and Gabriel was nowhere near ready for bed – he’d taken a hideously long nap – mostly because Akiva had also taken said nap and had allowed the poor thing to sleep as long as she had – and now he was very awake and Akiva was feeling frazzled. 

She loved her son.  She loved him more than she knew was possible to love another being.  But, she was tired – and lonely – and the sadness she felt creeping into her bones on another night alone was one that was hard to ignore.  Most nights, after she read Gabriel his goodnight stories and sang to him (albeit slightly off key) in the rocking chair next to his crib, and laid him down, she’d find herself sitting with Gordon or Lady on the couch or the bed, and without even realizing it, she’d start crying.

She couldn’t do that tonight – not with Gabriel still wide-awake.  She didn’t really know what her usual friends were up to – not wanting to bother them, particularly as they might have had odd hours to keep, but Frank, he was usually free.  With the full moon coming up, she couldn’t imagine he was doing much…

Perhaps it was naďve of her, or just her hope that someone else in her life – who was incredibly important to her-  wouldn’t be doing anything and could distract her for an hour, just until Gabriel got sleepy… They didn’t live far from one another, even still, and Gabriel liked being in the pram with his blanket and stuffed frog… maybe he’d even start to get drowsy and the walk would be good for both of them and a minor inconvenience on Frank’s time. 

Bundling him up, Akiva made sure to put on his warmest coat and hat and gloves, and bundled herself as well.  It was short – but cold, and she didn’t need a sick baby – or self – on top of everything else.  Gabriel fussed as she tried to put on his coat, whining and struggling, but Akiva tutted at him and soothed him with a few Hebrew phrases Dree had been fond of using when talking to their son…

Even at three months, it seemed use of the words rang some recognition in Gabriel’s head and he looked at her with his expressive, brown eyes, and Akiva felt an instant pang of guilt.  Standing up straight, taking Gabriel off the changing table and with her, Akiva took a deep breath, resting him against her shoulder and headed toward the door, the pram in the closet where it lived. 

“Let’s go, Gabriel,” she said softly, bouncing him before she put him in the pram and wrapped him up, tight and secure, settling his frog within eyeshot, but not close enough it would fall on him and upset him. 

She left the house, turning off the lights and locking the door behind her, glad for a bit of the cool air – though pulled the top of the pram a little higher to block the wind from truly getting at her son, and started to walk.  It wasn’t far, she reminded herself, and it gave her time to think. 

She thought of so many conflicting things as she went, and before she knew it she was in front of the building she lived in not so long ago – where she couldn’t have even imagined her life as it was now – good and bad all rolled into one.  It seemed like a lifetime ago, and Akiva was just glad that no matter how long ago it seemed, she could push the carriage on a familiar path and land in front of Frank’s flat. 

Identifying his key was easy, and she didn’t even think to knock (why would she need to – she had a key!) and put the key in the door, twisting it with ease.  She pushed the door open and slid the pram in first, wanting Gabriel to absorb the warmth before she could close the door behind her.  “Frank?” she called out, only vaguely concerned that she didn’t immediately see him, “Sorry to just drop in – but I just couldn’t be in the house another minute…” she continued to talk, still facing the door as she was peeling off the scarf and hat layers she was wearing. 

“Are you home?”

Heart-shaped lips parted and Laney accepted the tilted whiskey glass with hot-and-cold excitement, that particular bodily chill that they had worked up in their little fantasy act on Frank’s tiny balcony. She had thought for a wild moment that he was going to leave her there, and then the game would have turned much more savage. But he returned with that glass, a toast to their first act, and she was pacified, if also becoming feistier in her confinement. The weight and heat behind her were what she craved, warm and promising, and nearly burning like the smooth liquor. The February air and seemingly starless, inky-but-not-black cityscape made an intensely forward audience. She again tugged her wrists from the cold railing, her reflex to capture the glass, to hold it for herself even after she had obliged obediently, or to reach back, pull his face over her shoulder and taste the whiskey secondhand. But her hands were still secured, the tie neatly knotted and, in fact, growing tighter as she rebelled. The red marks it left were sweet and shallow, just uncomfortable enough to be exciting, compelling rather than annoying. A badge of honor that she would flash proudly to strangers, and which would likely leave her warm and fuzzy companion blushing or stumbling in the sober daylight. The thought made her smile as she tugged her hands again, biting her lip, showing the trademark dimple that her made her look less intimidating.

She liked him like this. She liked him all ways. But the growling, dominant version of Frank that had surfaced after dark to initiate the game she’d wanted was a very arresting version. And here was Laney, perfectly arrested and hardly clothed. The wintry climate that whispered roughly at her bare skin was offset by the heat in her throat, and now her thighs. The clink of the glass was inaudible, but she saw his shadow move behind her and then resume its place. The jingle of his belt was unmistakable. Laney’s heart jumped a bit (a feat; she was used to dashing around monolithic structures at great heights). When he next pressed into her, it was with the culmination of their heated game. She closed her eyes blissfully, her lips parting again in a silent cry before she was compelled to breathe out, a distinct, gratifying hush. She again tried to reach back, pull him closer, attack and absorb him with needy hands, but found herself restrained (a different kind of gratifying).

Her initial instinct to be quiet, to make him work for it, was eventually replaced by the promise she had made earlier, to not be quiet. She hoped to ruffle the feathers of the half-drunk sidewalk dwellers, the pub-goers, the unassuming Londoners returning to tiny, cramped flats with thin walls. Takeaway would not be all they enjoyed. Oscillating between loud, unmistakable sounds, and more intimate murmurs reserved only for him, but still audible enough (“Auror Pratt”), Laney did not hear the keys in the door at the flat’s entrance. She didn’t see the pram wheeled softly inside, nor the bundled baby in the pram, nor the brunette from framed photos. Her eyes were half-closed, and what she saw was skin— her own, a bit of Frank’s— and London for miles and miles.

But when the woman called out for Frank, it was harder to miss. It wasn’t in the same tone Laney was using, nor were any of the creative nicknames involved. It was a simple, genuine greeting, sober and completely unaware of what was happening on the balcony, just beyond the very open door. “Are you expecting someone?” She asked in a ragged breath, a whisper that sounded as if she had been running a marathon. She slowed a bit as she voiced the question, but did not stop or scamper forward to hide what they were doing, did not try to wriggle back into her bunched-up dress. She wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her; she was, however, mildly curious about who else had a key. At least by now she was pretty sure it wasn’t the silly muggle in his favorite magazine. She attempted to look over her shoulder, but it was in vain. This was a kind of compromising position that Laney Irving didn’t mind. (She was a part of the fun, after all.) The stranger’s timing was abysmal, though. Getting nearly to the point and having to stop abruptly was a particular kind of irksome, and Laney wasn’t planning to end their game on that sour note. Maybe it was the neighbor looking for sugar…

If Laney had a way about her that made his heart beat faster and his eyes wander longer, there seemed little point in letting her know. When she tugged at the restraints, it made him lick his lips, taking her in as he let her have the last of the whiskey in the glass. Eyes trailed down her face, over her chest and arms to her hands, smirking knowingly. He even glanced briefly out towards the street below, taking in the crowds as he considered what he would do if Laney let her outside voice out.

It wasn’t something to worry about quite yet. Eyes were drawn rather quickly back to her body, admiring as he helped her with the glass. Miss Irving, unable to do simple tasks by herself. It was erotic and encouraging. Maybe he needed to invest in ropes or real handcuffs. Or just more ties, perhaps.

Then it would serve more than one purpose.

With the glass set aside, he could focus on all of her. His hands took their pleasure unhindered. The way she moved under his fingertips forced him to take a deep breath, a groan escaping him as he pressed against her back. Hands moved from grasping her bare hips to her stomach, sliding the dress even further up as Frank grasped for more skin to hold on to. It was as if his animalistic side was let free, almost without the desire to bite into her.

No need to leave more marks than had all ready been left, though. When she called out to him, still in character, he growled and pushed harder. It was like a race that he wanted to draw out as long as possible. When she got too loud, a hand made its way up her back to her shoulder, grasping it under his fingertips. They slid around to her neck, moving up to her mouth, attempting to get across that she needed to be quieter.

He didn’t hear the key, the door, the initial movement. In fact, he had put most noise except for Laney into the background; London was going to be there, in all its busy glory.

“Frank?”

It took an extra couple of moments for the voice to sink in. It wasn’t an image he needed while he was in the middle of arresting someone! He froze as he pressed into Laney, blood pounding against his ears as he attempted to control his out-of-breath gulps of air. What the-

What did he do?! He didn’t acknowledge Laney’s question as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. She was lucky he wasn’t having a heart attack from the shock. That Laney kept on made him realize what they were doing, who was there, and how easy it was for the new party to see them. It was just around the corner, after all.

“Sorry to just drop in - but I just couldn’t be in the house another minute...”

Her voice was slightly muffled against the wind and the noise from the street below. Frank backed away from Laney, bending over to grab at his trousers. “Shit, shit, shit” slipped out under his breath as fingers grasped on to all the material bunched up around his ankles.

“Are you-”

Frank yanked what he could grab up, standing up suddenly to try and get himself decent. Except that clumsy Frank couldn’t just get his junk covered up and be able to play this all off. No, he had to lose his balance (blame the sudden blood rush and alcohol in his system, please), letting out a yell of surprise as he teetered and crashed against the open door, feet caught in trousers as he attempted to wiggle his way into them. He probably looked like a fish out of water, except that expletives that he didn’t usually use came out with ease; falling down hurt. “Bloody Merlin!” His shoulder and hip hurt where he’d landed. A groan escaped him as he tried to roll over on to his side, wanting to push himself up. Eyes went wide as he glanced to Laney and all the cover she didn’t have on. Another painful groan escaped him as he tried to think. “Wait, wait! Shit.”

Akiva didn’t really think anything in the apartment was amiss.  It didn’t strike her as odd that the balcony door had been open – Frank was probably home, maybe he’d fallen asleep out there or something… it wasn’t unheard of. 

Turning around, she thought she saw a flurry of activity – maybe he was scrambling up – potentially from falling asleep… whatever the case, Akiva bent down to release the slightly calmer Gabriel from the prison that was the pram.  Sighing, she kissed his forehead, giggling as he reached forward to grab for her necklace and she used her free hand to tuck it inside of her sweater.  “No, no,” she chided quietly, shifting her hands around him, to try and loosen the blanket and get a firm hold.

But, as she went to start lifting him, there was a loud crash, and Akiva’s hands instantly moved from the baby – not wanting to drop him – or do anything and looked up, seeing a lump on the floor.  She heard Frank groan and didn’t even process what was going on for a moment.  “Frank!” she gasped, trying not to scare Gabriel who was already fussing from the sound of the drop and she moved away from the pram – his whimpers pulling her back even though Frank had fallen.

Of course, as she moved around the pram, she noticed something else about him.  Well, she noticed a lot of things about him.  Blinking, Akiva went wide eyed and her jaw might have dropped just a little bit.  “Frank!” her voice was sharp, and Gabriel seemed to be responding to the awkward, tension in the flat. 

She didn’t know whether to cover her eyes or not, following his eyes just a little too soon and seeing – well a lot of his… friend… who Akiva did not know.

She did not anticipate finding that when she came here, and looking back at Frank –realizing there was a reason she had looked away, finally decided to cover her eyes and sputtered a little bit, looking for words, also stepping backward and with her free hand trying to feel for the carriage as she followed Gabriel’s fussy and uneasy sounds.  “I – welll – Frank!” she breathed, feeling like her whole body erupted in a fierce blush. 

“Just um… oh, I think I should go…”

Frank shrunk away from her with uncomfortable quickness. The warmth seemed to dissolve as if it had been Banished. Cold air whirled down her back. She became more aware of the sweat and quick heartbeat she had worked up before the unexpected arrival of guests; even without a finish to their sweet party, Laney felt the exhaustion settling into her muscles against her will, the overbearing desire for cigarettes and pillows and sticky warmth, and to rest against someone else’s heartbeat. The earned stage before sleep that throbbed dizzyingly in her ears. She pushed it back forcibly, grabbed the cold bar of the balcony. That much the constraint would allow.

The acute surge of energy that was dissatisfaction kept her on her feet, managing to balance, however ironically, the tiredness their fun had induced.

She heard Frank fall and shout before she turned at a weird angle (as much as the tie would allow) to see him. It looked like it had hurt, no cushioning for the exposed parts of his birthday suit. She looked past him to the woman, who was with a baby. Of course there would be baby. It struck her for a moment, the winning quality of how inappropriate this was. She almost wished she could tell her step-mother, brag. Or certainly a friend (who would appreciate it more than Olive). Her eyes took in the woman’s visage, which was easily distinguishable in the apartment’s light. She recognized her, from photos, she thought. Frank’s best friend, the one who had a baby recently. Laney had not met her before tonight.

“I’m Laney. I would shake your hand..." She trailed off, in a slightly lazy but not unfriendly drawl, the joke implicit as she gave the tie a friendly tug. She probably would have introduced herself with a confident smile and an easy lift of eyebrows, really, but now that she couldn't used her hands, she wanted nothing so badly.

Laney moved her hips. The dress shimmied back into place.

She looked back at Frank. He might have been the one with free hands, but they were both apparently busy at the moment, making a full-time job of not getting his trousers over his arse. Still twisted awkwardly to accommodate to the tie, Laney watched him with her shoulder half-turned toward him. A breathy laugh escaped her, and softened the near-eyeroll that was her expression. He was still adorable, even when trying to hastily hide the evidence of his more domineering side. Auror Pratt was still cute and clumsy Frank.

Finally, with the knowledge that this woman must be used to Frank’s endearing habits (of falling over half-naked), she looked back to the tie.

Maybe if she… She squinted at the knot as if she could stare it loose. Mind magic. Wandless. Because her wand still lay obediently on a table, just out of reach of the wanting Seeker. It was not so obedient as to answer her mental summons. Despite this irritation, she willed her wrists still and calm. If she could slip the tie over her knuckles, just one hand, or slip out her thumb… She was a quidditch player after all, agile, capable of impressive moves.

"Frank.”

Was he done the floor? Laney was sure she been in quidditch games that hadn’t lasted so long.

“It’s bloody freezing,” she added, more irritation in her voice. And it was cold; without his warmth, the hair of his arms, and the cardiovascular benefits of their extracurricular activities, Laney was feeling the sweat on her skin turn to ice water. The lessons of not wearing a coat or shoes or weather-appropriate dress on a night like this were dancing about her in the wind now, mocking her, rustling her hair none too gently. Slowly, she began to edge her wrist and thumb toward the material, and finally bent with the idea of using her teeth to aid her hands.

“Frank!”

The concern was evident, though Frank really didn’t need Akiva coming over to his rescue. If she could just stay with Gabriel and entertain herself, that would be perfect. As it was, he tried to hold her off by asking her to wait. If women would just listen to him, sometimes, they wouldn’t need to regret their decisions.

Women, however, were their own species. The way their mind worked and the thoughts that slipped through their head-even a fairly sensitive guy (like Frank) couldn’t keep up with their flighty emotions all the time. And if you started to figure one out, the same rules didn’t apply to the next.

“I - welll - Frank!”

If his cheeks were burning, his ears were like lava. Mixing embarrassment with pain was not his cup of tea. In fact, he wished they had turned the lights off; there were only so many shadows one could roll into in a doorway. He was going to have to owl his brother-in-law and ask for a favor for poor Akiva. Surely Casper would make a house call. Her voice grabbed his attention, eyes pulling away from Laney quickly as he attempted to roll over, succeeding with tugging his trousers up a bit.

The look on her face...

Had things been different, Frank would have loved putting that look of shock on her face. Like if he’d beaten her at categorizing a card catalog, or a game of cards. Perhaps even how much food he could fit in his mouth and still breathe. Anything but this.

His mouth opened; sputtering noises came out. She interrupted their little game of auror and robber, and she thought she should just go? “No, just, just wait.” At least she was looking away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He was mumbling now as he tried to piece together the situation, grimacing as he finally got into a position he could help himself.

Laney intervened by introducing herself. Frank glanced back to Laney, frowning slightly at her statement. Akiva probably didn’t want to touch either of their hands right then. She gave him time to lift his hips and tug his boxers up, covering everything that needed it right then. He followed them quickly with his trousers, hands busy as they put things in their places, eyes watching the progress so he didn’t get anything caught anywhere.

He’d all ready been caught with his pants down, thank you very much.

“Frank.”

Blinking back to the current situation, he looked up at Laney’s shrouded face. Her reminder of the chill made him feel terrible; he all ready felt bad for exposing Akiva to something he hadn’t forced upon her. Next time, he wondered if a sock on the door was necessary...

Grunting as he forced himself up off the floor, he continued his small rant. “I’m sorry.” Belt jangled as he moved. His hands buttoned the pants back together before he slipped up next to Laney. “Here, wait, stop- Let me just- Laney!” His voice was soft but forceful. Her mouth was dangerous. Finally he grabbed an end of the tie and tugged it, allowing the knot to undo itself. It was the last time he could use that style of knot. She’d know how to get out, now.

After looking at her face a moment, Frank turned his attention back to Akiva. If anything, it only caused his face to erupt in a brighter shade of humiliation. “H-How’s Gabriel?” He slipped the belt out of the loops as he took tentative steps towards the pram. Fingers made their way through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. “Hey little man.”

Alright.

Akiva could not believe this.  She knew Frank was a grown up, he could do as he pleased and not be judged for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t shock her when she accidentally walked in on it.  Turning a furious shade of pink, Akiva was glad Gabriel was down in the pram and shielded from this.  He was an infant, he wouldn’t remember, but she didn’t even want to risk giving him a complex at this age. 

She felt like she might develop one as far as this situation was concerned.  Frank was rolling on the floor, bare bottomed and turning redder by the moment.  Akiva felt terrible – she wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar with some facets of this situation – his clumsiness, some of the awkward, but it was… not the same at all…

Particularly when the voice of a young woman called out, and Akiva moved just a little to see where it was coming from (also diverted attention away from the pantsless wonder) and inhaled sharply as she noticed the girl was most assuredly tied up on the balcony in quite a… compromising position… in… very little… for February. 

“Oh… um….” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to fish for words, “Hello Laney, I'm Akiva” she tried to be chipper and even waved a bit - unsure of what to actually do, since yes, handshaking [i[was[/i] out of the question. Who knew where those hands had been?  It didn’t seem like Laney even cared that she was in this position, however, which was starkly contrasted to Frank’s reaction, and here she was, in the middle of it, trying to navigate between complete and utter horror and cool acceptance.  “Yes, um… Frank, dear?” she glanced toward him, “Help her, won’t you?”

Thankfully, he had managed to cover himself up and get everything in order – still as red as ever, but he was able to excuse himself and get everything situated in order to move without flashing anyone. 

She tried to avoid peeking back onto the balcony, but couldn’t help herself.  Her eyes followed Frank and watched as he tugged the young woman – who had previously been attempting, it appeared – to gnaw her way out of the binds (really, Frank?) that she couldn’t have put herself into.  Clearing her throat, Akiva ran her hand through her long, dark hair, looking down at Gabriel, mouthing a very quiet “I’m sorry,” to her son, who, at the moment, was blissfully unaware, and sucking on his fist. 

She looked up, surprised for a moment, at Frank, asking about Gabe and looking so mortified… Akiva couldn’t help it.  A bright smile crossed her face, trying not to laugh (incredibly difficult).  “Completely unaware,” she teased, knowing what he was really asking… and disregarding it entirely. 

Lowering her voice, she crossed one arm across her torso and put both of her hands on the same hip.  “Sorry,” she smiled, “We can get going and you two… can resume… somewhere not cold,” she gave him a hard look, “Are both of you trying to get sick being like that out in the cold?”